Chapter Text
Stiles decided he needed to get away from Beacon Hills. With everything that was going on, he didn’t know how much more he could take. Scott had decided to trust Theo over Stiles and hadn’t let his best friend try to explain himself, so Stiles had been basically left without a pack. His dad didn’t seem to trust him as well. Put it all together and that left a very lonely and frustrated Stiles.
As Stiles drove away after having his fight with Scott, he was very tempted to leave the fucking hellhole of a town that Beacon Hills was. Thinking he didn’t have anything else to lose, since Theo had already taken everything, Stiles stepped harder on the gas petal. Passing the ‘Now Leaving Beacon Hills’ sign without looking back.
The rain made it very hard to see where he was going, but he could have cared less. It wasn’t until he thought he saw something in the middle of the road that realized driving angry in the rain had been the worst idea. By then though, it was too late. His life flashed before his eyes as his jeep rammed into a tree. He felt an unbearable sharp pain around his midsection and duller, but still painful feeling on the back of his head. Before he could try to wrap his head around what had just happened, his whole faded to pitch black.
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The next morning, the sheriff got a dreaded call from the police department, saying that a local ranger had found a wrecked jeep at the side of the road.
All the sheriff could think as he quickly sped through town to get to the scene of the wreckage was “Please don’t be a blue jeep, please don’t be Stiles.”
At the same time, Scott and the others couldn’t help but feel a sharp sense of pain and loss. They felt a pull leading them to the edge of town that they couldn’t shake. They, too, found themselves at the scene of the accident.
When Scott arrived, the first thing he saw was the sheriff weeping out and being held in place by three other officers. The man was desperately trying to get past them, but he was so broken that he wasn’t so successful. Scott felt the man’s despair and wanted nothing more than to comfort the man he had grown to think of as his father for many years.
That’s when he saw it.
The unmistakable shade of light blue that stood out among all its surroundings.
It was Roscoe, Stiles’s infamous jeep.
Scott’s heart stopped. Guilt and dread filling every part of his being.
He pushed past all the police officers, which wasn’t too hard with his super strength, and a few seconds later he was standing right in front of the wrecked jeep.
Coming face to face with none other than Stiles. His best friend’s eyes staring blankly back him. Faded to a greyish color and void of any life. Eyes that would never again blink or gleam with mischief.
There was a tree branch going through Stiles’s stomach, which was most likely the reason he had died.
Scott burst into tears. He couldn’t stand the fact that his best friend probably sat there, bleeding to death and perhaps hoping someone would find before he met his maker. But they hadn’t, no one had found him in time. Stiles had died bleeding out in the rain, alone.
He had died alone.
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They were supposed to have held a funeral, but Stiles’s body had disappeared from the morgue the very next day. John and the rest of the police department tried to find the body, but had no luck. There were no leads, no motive, therefore no way to give the sheriff proper closure…or at least the closest he could get to it.
The man was devastated. His whole world had crumbled. Not only had he lost his wife, but he had also lost his son. And not only that, he wasn’t able to be with either of them or comfort them on their final moments. He hadn’t been there to say goodbye, not that it would have been easy to do so. He felt that he had turned his back on his family, and the world had decided to punish him for that.
John nearly drank himself to death, but luckily Scott and Melissa had decided to check up on him at that moment and were able to call an ambulance. After that moment, neither Scott nor Melissa left the man out of their sight for long.
The pack tried to do their part to find out what happened to Stiles’s body, but it was a dead end for them as well. They believed it had something to do with the supernatural, but they weren’t able to find the slightest clue. Neither Lydia, the banshee who could find dead bodies, nor Parrish, the hellhound who carried them away somewhere, could find Stiles.
The whole situation with the Dread Doctors and Theo didn’t help much with their search. Sure, they had found out the truth about Theo, but by then it had been too late. Stiles was gone and they would be left wondering what happened to the body. Scott was a train wreck, almost as bad as the sheriff. Maybe even worse because he felt it was his fault Stiles died since it happened on the night of their argument. There was nothing that could ease his guilt. The only apologies he could give were cried out to an empty grave.
The whole pack had gone numb after losing their beloved human. Even in dire situations, he had always found a way to crack a joke or two. And now he was gone, at a time they needed him the most.
Dealing with the supernatural threats that plagued Beacon Hills had served as a distraction for everyone, but even that was taken from them. The Dread Doctors and Theo vanished without a trace one day, most likely going away to plan out their next scheme.
For now, it was all silent in Beacon Hills. And the pack hated every second of the silence, for it reminded them of a time that the silence had been filled with laughter. Laughter that would never be heard again.
They tried their best to ty to make it through their senior year, trying to ignore the memories they had of Stiles wandering down the halls causing trouble, but were failing badly.
Finally, as if some unseen powers had taken a little pity on them, something happened in Beacon Hills that grabbed their attention.
One month after Stiles’s death, something finally came to distract them from their sorrow.
And it came in the form of a group of people breaking into the hospital. But that wasn’t all, these people weren’t there to steal medicine or medical equipment.
Oh no, they were there to steal…blood.